Beyond the Quiet Face
Images of ghosts fly behind my eyes
I shudder
sometimes it's cold here
below the belly of warm eyes.
If you could would you transcend?
Slip in between the day to day
and stop time in your mind
to look at me?
Beyond the quiet face
into the underlay
meshwork of elements
paradox, uncertainty, childlike hope
entangled with a personal universe.
Would you look closer?
Intrigued? Interested?
Or brush your fingertips
across the weblike strands
to see which hum against your energy?
There's an internal waterfall
pulling everything down.
It slows me.
Would you taste from it?
Or walk away hurriedly
afraid of getting wet,
afraid to drown?
I wish I could open up my palms like a book
the pages would be tissue paper thin.
It would be called layers
and it would tell the story
of the way we paper mache our souls
and put overlays around our intentions.
I would rip at it one page at a time
and read every word to you
before throwing them into the fire.
Sometimes statements are really questions
they barely whisper their meaning
in a look in the eye
or the tremor of a voice.
How can we we know somebody else
when we barely know ourselves.
Copyright © Lesley Kaplan | Year Posted 2009
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